“Now is our chance!” cried Dave, and over the rocks went the young soldier and the backwoodsman, scrambling along with all possible speed. The route was a rough one, and more than once they had their hands and faces scratched and their uniforms torn.
“Those shots will put the Indians on the watch,” said Raymond, as they pushed along.
“Perhaps they will bring some of our friends to the vicinity,” returned Dave. “If Henry——Oh!”
Dave’s speech ended in a cry of pain. He had slipped on the rocks and his left leg had received a severe wrench at the knee. He tried to rise and then fell back with a groan of agony.
“What’s the matter, lad?”
“I’ve twisted my knee.”
“Can’t you get up?”
“I’ll try it. Oh!”
Dave stood up on the limb that was uninjured and tried to take a step. But the pain was too great and he was forced to sit down on a rock.
“That’s too bad, certainly,” said Raymond sympathetically. “If you can’t walk, I really don’t know what we are to do.”